Evil By Will
by frostygossamer
Summary: Hunters Rufus and Ellen encounter the demonic brothers. A sequel to 'Evil Is As Evil Does'. Dark AU. hunter!Rufus/Ellen hunted!Dean/Sam. Character death. Wincest.


A/N: I got one mini-flame for the prequel story, 'Evil Is As Evil Does', but I take that as kind of a compliment because I was trying to shock. I hope you realise I'm not just putting down sick thoughts here. I'm trying to explore an alternative perspective on the hunter thing. If you haven't yet please read 'Evil Is As Evil Does' and remember all perspectives aren't necessarily correct in these stories.

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Summary: Hunters Rufus and Ellen encounter the demonic brothers.

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Evil By Will by frostygossamer

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PoV: Rufus Turner, hunter, (semi-)retired, friend of John Winchester

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Word came to me about a lycanthrope problem outside Albuquerque. So I decided to drive on over and take a look. Maybe I was kinda retired from the life now, but once in a while somethin' still took my interest. Lycanthropes! I hate them hairy sons of bitches!

I stopped off for a beer at Harvelle's Roadhouse on the way, and got into conversation with Ellen. Fine woman, Ellen, and she wasn't too sweet on werewolves either. So she offered to come with. I was glad of the company.

We drove down to this little place outside Albuquerque and asked around. Locals told of a certain ranch where there had been a few recent cases of stock mutilation. Looked like we had the right place. We drove out there to investigate.

The full moon was hanging in the sky like a big eye, watching us. Then, as my pickup crawled almost silently up the bumpy dirt track toward the barn, there it was, parked half hidden in the bushes, a shiny black 1967 Chevy Impala.  
"Winchesters", I growled. I might as well have said Lucifer himself.

The Winchesters were cursed. Inhuman cold-blooded demon killers. They'd iced their own pa, old friend of mine, John Winchester, and they were blazing a trail of slaughter across the Fifty States. I handed my silver bullet pistol to Ellen and loaded up my shotgun with salt.

"Salt ain't no good for werewolves", Ellen pointed out.

"Werewolves, Hell", I spat. "First we hunt Winchesters. Those bastards are due."

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PoV: Ellen Harvelle, hunter, widow of William Harvelle the late friend of John Winchester

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I had heard about the Winchesters, sure. The talk was all over the Roadhouse. And I heard it from John's own lips, no less.

They were his boys, but the words he used about them were bitter. The yellow-eyed demon bastard who killed his sainted wife, Mary, infected his youngest with its satanic blood. And his eldest? He'd succumbed to his cursed little brother's evil heart. It was John's duty, he said, to hunt down and destroy his own traitorous... spawn.

John was an old pal of my William. They hunted together. William trusted John. He was there when my man got his. But somehow I never quite got all of the truth about that job.

When Rufus killed the headlights, it took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dark. The silence hung heavy on the night air.

Suddenly there was an outbreak of shouting from somewhere on the left, and the glare of high-beam flashlights cut the darkness. Rufus turned and ran, bent double, towards the source of the noise. I followed him.

With a crash and a curse, a guy fell backwards from a thicket and a huge, ugly, hairy shape descended on him. A taller figure broke from the bushes and fired two shots at the writhing confusion of man and monster, both shots missing their mark as the mass wrestled back and forth on the dark ground. Rufus stood up, leveling his shotgun at the upright figure.

"OK, OK", he said, approaching the tall guy. "Lower your weapon."

The guy refused to lower his gun, he was aiming for a kill-shot. Rufus fired a salt round that caught the guy on the right arm, stinging the flesh. His pistol dropped from his hand.

"The next round is in your face", Rufus snarled.

Rufus was gonna take the son of a bitch. He was just gonna let the wolfman finish off the other guy. I drew Rufus' pistol. Nobody deserved to die that way. I fired. The creature stopped struggling and lay still, morphing slowly from something to someone. I grabbed the guy's hand and helped him shrug off the corpse and struggle to his feet. Even in this light I could see he was a peach.

"I guess you're Dean Winchester", I said.

A half hour later, Rufus had both brothers strung up by their arms in the barn. He paced back and forward in front of them.

"John Winchester was my friend", he declared. "When I heard that he'd been put down, by his own kids no less, I didn't want to believe. John was a good man. He watched my back many times. I never thought..."

"I never thought", I thought. "I never really believed. Not all those things John used to say. About his boys being evil. I never thought that anyone could hate his own kids so bad. Hate the demon but not the host, never. I always kinda worried that John was a little crazy. That was why I begged William not to go hunting with him that last time. Oh, William..."

"You two monsters deserve to die. And I'm gonna make that happen", Rufus snarled, with relish. "I'm gonna start with this one", he stopped in front of the younger man. "And I'm gonna let you enjoy the entertainment", he said, looking at Dean.

Dean growled and tugged at his bonds. Rufus threw his head back and laughed, gleefully. Then he slapped Sam viciously across the face, slamming his head to the side. Blow followed blow, left and right, and each time Dean cursed and struggled in his ropes. I watched him.

"Everything John said was a lie, right?", I asked ironically. "About the two of you being infected with evil? About the blood lust and the demented taste for destruction that made you kill all those innocent people? And the filthy incestuous addiction? Touching your own brother? You oughta go to Hell just for that!"

Dean glared in my face.

"John was my William's friend. He was with William when he died. You know anything about that?", I asked. It was something that I'd always needed closure on.

Dean closed his eyes and winced as another savage blow rocked his brother.

"Dad was a single-minded guy. No one stood in his way when he had his eye on the prize. No one", he hissed, with a meaningful smirk. Thwack!

"I always thought John was wound a little too tight", I admitted. "I was never real happy he could be trusted. I don't know he always knew fact from fantasy, bad from good. But he was always crazy sure he was right." Whack!

"Righteous", Dean muttered. "Self-righteous", I agreed.

I paused. I'm a mother so I think I see things that way, different from the guys.

"John never did right by you two. I'd never have taken my kid on the road", I said. "That's why I keep the Roadhouse. It gives my daughter a home. John never let you have a childhood. That I could never understand. He brought you up wrong. No wonder you turned out so wrong."

"We're not so wrong", Dean whispered, icily. "We just get bad press."

I chuckled humourlessly. Rufus stood back from his work, admiring his bloody punching bag. His face was one big toothy smile. He looked like some kinda devil. The boy was barely conscious. He looked like Hell.

On an impulse I drew my knife from my belt and, while Rufus's attention was distracted, slit Dean's wrist and ankle ties.

He staggered one step, rubbing his scarred wrists and, grabbing a 2-by-4 from the barn floor, whacked Rufus viciously on the head, knocking him out cold. He hesitated for a moment, the end of the board resting against the old man's neck. Then he closed his eyes and slammed it down, hard.

I tensed, hand on gun, ready to defend myself.

Dean cut his brothers lashings and heaved his weight onto his shoulder.

"Sorry, Ellen", he said. "We can't have him coming after us. We've had our fill of that". And they staggered into the night.

I engaged my weapon's safety and sighed, "God, I hope that wasn't the biggest mistake of my life."

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PoV: Dean Winchester, son of John, protector of Sam, killer

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I dragged my limping baby brother back to the Impala and shoehorned the big lunk inside. He was coming round. And he hurt.

In the driver's seat, I grabbed Sam's hair, pulling open his eyes with my thumb, checking them out.

"Dean...", he whined.

"Hey, you're still alive, little brother. Just", I said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Rufus?", he asked, his eyes still betraying a hint of fear.

"He'll not be bothering us anymore", his big brother assured him.

Sam smiled and then winced as he lay back into his seat, rubbing his stinging arm.

"Wait till I get you to bed", I joked. "I'll bet you clean up pretty sexy."

"I dunno how you can laugh after you've just taken someone out", he remarked.

"You've gotta laugh or you'd cry, Sammy", I answered, starting the engine.

A few minutes down the road Sam turned to me and asked, "Still glad you're with me, D?"

"Always", I told him. "This is a forever thing, Sammy boy."

And, taking my eyes off the empty road, I kissed him hard on his busted mouth.

"If I lost you now, they might as well send me straight to Hell", I whispered.

He chuckled, "Guess it's on our way."

The End

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A/N: 'Oh No!', you say, 'Now she's killed off poor Rufus too, and he was such a nice guy'. Well, we know hunters are not so nice if you happen to be on the wrong side, and it wouldn't make that point if I used a character who is normally nasty. Further developments are in the pipeline, bear with me.


End file.
